Two Kinds the Same
by bayzee
Summary: The year is 2182. In an attempt to expand its influence and take its fair share in galactic politics the Systems Alliance houses a training course as part of the Citadel's Interspecies Exchange Programme. But the weeks of the programme hold more than what the young turian soldier expected, when she finds unforeseen rejoice in the company of a not so much of the same kind human.
1. First Impression

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_**Author's note:** The story starts in late 2182, right before the events of Mass Effect 1. The Systems Alliance is struggling to take its fair share in galactic politics and strengthen their positions at the Citadel. The Alliance decides to house one of the first instances of the Citadel's Interspecies Exchange Programme, in an attempt to further improve relations with the galactic government. But the programme turns out to improve other relations as well, as the young female turian soldier finds unlikely rejoice in the company of a not so much of the same kind human, while the gears of a sinister machine are slowly turning to stir the galaxy closer to its fate... just like every 50 000 years._

_The main idea behind the story was to explore the numerous aspects of how a relationship could form and develop between a human and an extraterrestrial alien despite the several physical and social differences, and what burdens should they face or overcome to preserve such relationship - if it is possible at all? Two Kinds the Same is an adventurous field trip and study for above topic, and hereby I invite the reader to partake in this journey!_

_The story follows Mass Effect canon and features a series of canon and original characters._

_While 'Two Kinds the Same' stands in its own right, it is also a tribute to another artist's piece of work; thus contains details, intertwines and tie-ins to its root of inspiration: 'A Matter of Race and Character' from the pen of the exceptional writer Xeno-Sapian. It is highly recommended to read his story for the complete picture and unforgettable experience._

_____For related artwork, find my gallery at** DeviantArt** under screen-name "bayzee".**  
**_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Two Kinds the Same**

**Chapter I.**

**FIRST IMPRESSION**

**_Maverick Pub, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 14:45 LT – 2182.11.07 CE_**

The young, smartly clad man had been tampering with the classic looking cork-coaster, which he picked up from under his glass, for several minutes by now. Rolling and folding it between his fingers, while enjoying the fresh air he missed so much in London, he wondered if it was made of cork at all…

"… Well, my wife _is_ a curious woman, but tell me one that's not! She knows how far she can go though. And frankly I am quite happy 'bout that. If she was too nosy, might earn her – and myself – some serious headache." the elder man sitting at the other side of the small round table said jovially.

"You know that it doesn't sound reassuring, right?" Kevin shot an eyebrow up with a lopsided smile. "I want to be confident that our business stays between us. And Liz should be the last person to worry about, not the first!"

"Yes, of course. I know. I am just… joking. She won't be a problem, nor anyone else. I strictly keep my job to myself. All the connections behind the shipping data and contact details are either stored on my private remote servers or sealed away offline; only I have access to them. I would never reveal my clients identity for nothing! " he noticeably changed to a more serious tone, leaning in closer, propping himself on his elbows against the table. "If you want to stay on the surface on Bekenstein, you got to have your guards up all the time. There is plenty of competition who would happily take your place any minute; and if you're not watching your back, you're going down in a blink of an eye, Kevin. I learnt the lesson a long ago" the man stared at Kevin with an empty look while nodding repeatedly as if he had just realized that he'd discovered some profound truth.

"I am feeling lucky that I am working with a professional, Jamal" he smiled confidently "You know: who is playing safe, and well prepared."

"Yes, you got to be good at what you are doing, or get wasted. That's what I always lived by."

"Yet, our business seems to be in contradiction with what you've just said."

"Ohh, Kevin," he rattled, clearing his throat "both of us have to make a living, haven't we? I promised you would get some details on the volumes and destinations of the cargo, but that's all. You can't expect me giving away my clients!"

"Yeah, that is true. If you do not offer, it is definitely not something I would ask for. That would be inappropriate and definitely unethical. However to be honest it would be of true value to me."

Kevin started to run his fingers along the rim of his glass in circles, addressing it with his dedicated attention, while speaking to Jamal "But I am glad that at least your game is playing out well. With the Systems Alliance running for strengthening its reputation, it is a smaller kind of miracle that you manage to stay off the radar – the fortunate man I am. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even have this small info to get on with…" he shot his eyes up at him "For our fruitful business relationship! Cheers!" he said raising his glass of wine.

Kingsley reluctantly raised his mug of beer to clink their glasses. Now that they faced each other again, he could see the changes on his partner's expression: the signs of unrest sat out on it; the effect, which he dearly expected from his former words.

"Ah, yeah. Cheers." he said blinking a few times, waking from his absence and trying to assume a relaxed pose again with less success "Now, it is true I have not much to complain about; the ships are running, there are some orders placed…"

Kevin felt there was more to Jamal's recap over how well it was going for him.

"Though, you cannot be cautious enough when the authorities are breathing down your neck… Two weeks ago I got one of my shuttles caught at a checkpoint. Good thing it was a forerunner, but still got it shut down by Alliance for a missing signature from the service logs! I can't even remember the last time I heard about such a thing! I thought they didn't even look at those logs! A few days later another shuttle was pulled over and torn up to the last screw! Then this week one of my pilots did not log in for his shift. I assumed the lazy idiot was sleeping in, but turned out soon that he was arrested two days earlier when he was doing a private shipment. The authorities have already been calling me for interview. If they spoil my game, I might lose a lot. Damn, would be nice to say that we can keep doing our business, Kevin, but to deliver with no interference, I could really use some ease… or rather, some leverage."

_Finally. _

Jamal Kingsley was just one of the hundreds of thousands of swindling businessmen on Bekenstein, aspiring to belong to the upper ten thousand. But he had something that Kevin needed, and he felt he'd worth the effort. This was the fifth time he met the stumpy, red face, sparse hair man, and he could always tell by the fine material that he was wearing some high brand suit – the same one each time. He knew how to insinuate himself into his favour: letting him talk, paying attention, showing interest about whatever he talks of, and show him _respect_, as if he was already one those white collar criminals who already washed themselves clean under the shower of their credits. But sympathy was not everything, he needed a grip, something he could get a hold of, and now, he didn't have to wait any longer.

"What do you mean, my friend?"

"The last time we spoke you said… you had some friends with the Alliance at that…"

"Charity cocktail party" he put in.

"…Yes!"

"The cocktails were crap."

"Yes… well, you..."

"And the caviar tasted like tainted Salarian-eggs. Or so do I imagine." he mused furrowing his brow, while gazing in the distance behind Kingsley's back.

Kingsley halted for a moment with a fleeting wince across his face, probably picturing what he had just heard, then shook his head slightly and continued with renewed resolve:

"Erm, so you mentioned that the Alliance was going down hard on any skimming happening to the transportation of goods to the Citadel from Bekenstein. And as you know, I'm trying to hold a reasonable profit here with a few tricks, which involuntarily contradicts Alliance trade regulations… Despite my best efforts." he added reluctantly. "But, you suggested that the Alliance might not necessarily be a problem…" Kevin's eyes snapped back at Jamal's face with a firm nod. "And if I ever needed some heads up…"

"And I didn't forget about it. Just what friends are for, hm? I thought you might appreciate it the next time we meet, so…" Kevin slipped his left hand into his packet and placed a little cubical device in the middle of the table, while his eyes quickly wandered around the terrace of the bar. "… pulled some strings." he allowed himself a smirk.

Kingsley's eyes widened as he regarded the little box shaped plastic between his glass of beer and Kevin's already empty plate.

"Oh… I don't know what to say. Is it…?"

"Yes, as I referred to it, there is some serious political pressure on the Alliance to get its supervisory status right and effective over the colonies' markets. They figured in the past few years enormous amounts of tax went down the sinkhole. Analysts joke it's rather a black hole, and from the supermassive kind that the Alliance should patch up now, if they don't want to spiral down into bankruptcy. This is a time when humanity needs all the resources to gain a firm stance before the Council. Humanity mustn't be perceived as weak. So, they won't be joking with this."

Some silence settled in as Kevin gave a lingering look of confidentiality at Jamal, who seemed to consider the situation duly.

"Well, that is what the top dogs are saying! But it wasn't the good old human government if everything worked out as planned. So here's the deal: Alliance is shutting down any black or grey market channels, unless some personal interest occurs on a high enough level of course. And believe me the blues will hang up their fine golden braid unis, too someday. And they are as keen on saving for the twilight years as you and I." giving it a second thought his words suddenly sounded utmost ridiculous to himself; he was slightly older than 26. Involuntarily recalling how he let his sparse beard grow for the last few days to look just a wee bit older today, didn't help either. Choking on his chuckle, he let out a confident laugh to ease up a bit; however Jamal seemed to be more concerned about what Kevin was about to say than getting snagged on his logical lapse. "I shouldn't be telling anything new by saying this place is hardly run by the Alliance. If the tycoons upstairs don't see their good share, Alliance will have to wage a bureaucratic cold war against Bekenstein to bring their reign down. And that would also mean bringing down the closest and richest human colony right in the neighbourhood of the galactic _honey pot_… And anyone messing up such a strong business channel to the Citadel now would be thought outright crazy. So what's happening now? Figureheads get their numbers back on Earth in the form of long reports of arrests and judicial resolutions on shutting down some petty, negligible dirty businesses on Bekenstein big time! They get happy as they can make the media happy, which makes the people happily electing the happy politicians happily patting the shoulders of the happy Alliance brass; which makes Bekenstein happy, and eventually us; as long as you don't belong to those… going down for the sake of the show."

Kevin let his words settle well in Kingsley's mind to realize how much trouble was coming his way. This balmy sunny afternoon surely felt a lot more overcast for him now. It didn't keep Kevin from enjoying the exotic whistles and tweets of the avian creatures in the forest below the terrace, while seeing all the giveaway signs of anxiety on his partner. _The wrinkles on Jamal's forehead definitely seemed more intense in these lights. And isn't he scratching his thumb while gripping that mug so nervously? Oh not a lip-bite, please!_

Finally he leant forward and continued, lowering his voice, while pushing the little device closer to Kingsley "This is an NFC drive. I couldn't risk anything found on my omni-tool in case of security checks. Well it's nothing incriminating – not, as long as you don't know what it is, so you should download its contents, _now_… I can't give you the chip" he added firmly.

Kingsley reacted with a short lag as if he was still pondering about the forthcoming Alliance measures. His omni-tool flashed up as he placed his right wrist above the device, pressing a few buttons on the interface. '_DOWNLOAD COMPETE' _the holographic screen flickered out. _Got you!_

"The Alliance wants coordinated busts with significant force for an extended period. They are not risking any mercenaries interfering or causing trouble during the investigations. These are the lists of times, locations and key aspects based on which the checks are going to be made. You want to avoid them, get clean during the areal busts, and you definitely don't want to pass it on. Remember, some must go down for some going up. If you are playing hero, the Alliance might get suspicious and it's a matter of time until someone turns you in; and I won't be able to help you again… Oh and if I were you, I would start getting the shuttles' papers right no later than today – if you take a look at the closest date on the list. It would be a shame to slip on that."

First startled at the imminent threat, he finally let out a mumbled "Right," frowning "How could I thank…"

Kevin sat back slowly leering his partner's face with anticipation, then glanced down at the NFC chip that he left on the table. He had to force the sly smile off his face.

"You…oooh, you want the client records." Jamal looked up at him bewildered. A few minutes ago he wouldn't have guessed he would consider disclosing his records just within the frame of a few minutes!

Kevin made an emphatic and slow nod as he briefly flared his hands with agreement "You are doing shipping, I am doing marketing. I put you ahead of your competition, how can you put me ahead of mine?"

Kingsley was shifting in his seat uncomfortably and quickly casted his eyes to the side in frustration. Kevin could almost hear the creaking gears as Jamal's brain was struggling towards a favourable solution. He took a sip of his wine.

"All right. I guess I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Heh!" Jamal snorted cynically. "I don't have the records on me now. I have to get them…"

"No pressure, Jamal. You said that you had them on remote servers. Though I wonder how you reach them when you are away."

Kevin pondered casually while watching his partner mulling over his next reply.

"Well, I have the most recent ones that I'm working with. I can reach them over the extranet through secure tunnels, but I set read only rights on the files even for myself so copies are troublesome to make. I mean, there is lots of data there to take screenshots."

"Show me the records between 28 October and today, please." he asked, and Jamal resignedly fired up his omni-tool to connect to his severs. Kevin reached out for the NFC chip and slid it back into his pocket. He was slightly surprised how long it took for Kingsley to log in to his archives. It didn't seem practical; although he mused if it was the result of using several layers of encryption, with the software executed manually, or simply the lack of computing skills. Inside his head he put a bet on the latter. "And Jamal, I will come for the rest of the files dating back to January 2180 in two weeks."

Kingsley noted his reminder with a nod, and held out his hand with the list of files for Kevin to see. _Damn, that's truly a huge pile of data. _Kevin furrowed his brows as scrolled through the databank systematically. His lips stirred occasionally as he read the entries from the screen. Kingsley was tapping his finger impatiently – he definitely felt inconvenient to have someone else messing with his omni-tool. However it was more likely Kingsley's conspicuously nervous demeanour that attracted a few prying looks, instead of Kevin's trifling with the other man's device.

Within a further minute Jamal's embarrassment was finally over as Kevin leant back with a firm sigh. "That _is_ really a lot of info!"

"I told you."

"Well, thank you, Jamal! Unfortunately, I found nothing just yet that I could use right now, _but_ I definitely need these records _unfiltered_ and _unaltered_." he emphasized with a stern look in the eyes "If I run into some fiasco because the data I'm going to grab from you in two weeks will have been altered…"

"There will be no problems Kevin, we have made a deal. You help me, I help you."

"I'm just feeling lucky that I'm working with a professional" he smiled reassuringly as he swigged the remaining wine from the bottom of his glass.

Kevin insisted to pay the check and offered Jamal to leave freely as he was still staying to enjoy the sight, given the short periods of time he spent in this mock _Garden of Eden_.

The Maverick Pub was intentionally decorated to recall the romantic image of tropical seashores of the Caribbean on Earth, quite contradictorily on an artificial elevation on the side of the city, far above the treeline. Nonetheless the view was amazing; lush forests expanding till the plateaus of the horizon, breathing clouds of mist; streaks of the sun piercing through them casting slowly shifting shadows on the foliage. A rare sight on Earth, if there is still such a thing. The massive city of Milgrom laid in the opposing direction, carefully hidden from the eyes by the palm trees and rustic wooden wall design elements of the bar.

When Kingsley had been off-sight for a couple of minutes, Kevin finally stood from the table, yanking on his suit as he regarded his surroundings. He nodded at the waiter, pointing at the money he placed on the table by the slip then he strode into the restroom. _It almost felt like being at home _he thought. He hardly saw any aliens in Milgrom apart from the spaceport and the central market that he paid a brief visit the first time he was on Bekenstein. Even then he felt a bit like a village boy in a metropolis; he rather just lingered around, amazed of the immense structures and the vivid, whirling crowd of people mixed with some aliens. But with a sudden change of thoughts he was more interested in getting to the tap and flush his face with some water. _It was a pain in the ass, but he's done it._ He looked into the mirror and addressed his reflection coquettishly "You were good, man! You've made it!". Cupping his face he soaked the water up off his skin with a towel, when another face appeared in the mirror, glancing at him, throwing a flat compliment "Congratulations." and leaving the room after a swift hand wash.

By the time the door of the cubicle the man emerged from behind closed, Kevin was finally alone _again_ with his smile frozen on his face. He decided it was high time to leave. He quickly made sure that no one else was staying in the restroom, then locked himself in one of the cubicles and held the NFC dire in one hand. With a faint electric whizz his omni-tool's holographic interface manifested around his right forearm, illuminating his face with its orange light. The next moment the little chip was levitating as if it was magnetically held in position before the omni-tool's virtual fabricator pikes, but of course, it was merely a mass effect field; in a few seconds the fabricator emitted a prompt bolt of light arching between the omni-tool and the chip, and the latter was no longer but smoke and ash. After grabbing the chance of relieving himself, during his leave he gave a final, closer look at his eyes in the mirror that seemed doubtlessly red now, but didn't bother.

On his way out from the Maverick he fixed his eyes on the man with a characteristic moustache who had been sitting at the third table behind Kingsley the whole time with a laptop. He realized that now the haptic interface of the device was turned on, while the man was sipping his coffee peacefully, watching some kind of movie on the screen; he shivered. _Oh great; I've got company._

Kevin hesitated promptly, then immediately realized he should have better moved on as if nothing had happened. This quick thought resulted in a jerky lag before he set out on his way towards the exit at the far end of the terrace. He hoped his hitch would not give his awareness away. _The sign was unmistakable; h_is mind was racing if staying any longer in an attempt to spot anybody watching him would be worth it, but he already reached the door. _No point doing that; the place is having its peak hour, no chance taking out any stalkers in such a crowd. _In a vain attempt he ran his glance over the hoard of patrons.

Taking a sharp turn at the gate he headed in the direction of the vast Nephilim Park stretching a few levels above where he was now. The shortest way led across the wide street behind the bar, and up the stairs on the side of what looked like a huge and long embankment spiralling along the southern boundary of the city. Its true function was a mystery to Kevin, but it was almost certain that the structure provided static solidity to the mega-complex built upon and around it, rather than protecting against flood.

The cacophony of the terrace was gradually giving place to the soothing rustle of local, nevertheless still pretty exotic looking trees and bushes planted and hedged in the style of a French formal garden as Kevin padded up the stairs; although his mind was way too occupied to enjoy the sight. He did not hurry; at each turn he let his eyes leisurely wander out to the vista of the horizon covered in silky mist – and also, to the street down below for brief seconds, bouncing from face to face as fast as possible. He could feel his heartbeat becoming faster, which paired with his frustration over realizing his mistake of staying too long in the restroom, probably giving enough time for assuming good positions to whoever was tailing him. Given such a blatant head start, of course nobody was careless enough to rush up right behind him and to be honest, nor were they in the need of doing so.

Kevin fired up his omni-tool casually, dialling "Honey" from his contact list. While establishing connection, he picked a sympathetic bench in the shades of a shape-trimmed tree with yellowish trunk and branches, which delicately bent upwards more or less like acacias of the savannahs back on Earth, forming an umbrella-like shroud above him.

"Hello?" a calm female voice answered.

"Hey honey!" he exclaimed with such a broad grin it was probably picked up by geographical satellites, too.

"I was afraid you would never call." the woman said in an obviously feinted reckoning manner.

"Heh, yah, I'm sure you were" he muttered "Look hun, you remember I promised to check those amazing… eeeer _earmuffs_ you've dreamed of!

"Ohhh! Yes?" she said with an undisguised giggle.

"And guess what, I was too busy to see them just yet, however I would feel guilty if I went home without them."

"Aw, you have always been such a gentleman!" she laughed.

"Yah, that's me. I'm planning to go to the Central Market in the evening around 7:00 pm." he said forming the words as clearly as possible "And once I'm there, I'd also check some other things worth to grab for the _birthday party_… Bekenstein produces some really exclusive beverages I heard of. I got to dig them up, so I might stay an extra day at the hotel maybe?"

"…Of course Kevin. Stay as long as you need" she sounded more serious than she probably wanted, because in the next moment her voice was back to her previous jingly tone "I… I make the preparations in the meantime. My brother just can't wait to come!... Yeah.

"Hope everything is okay on your end. Any news about grandpa?"

"He's still fishing; no catches. I'll let you know if there is something."

"Okay" he nodded a few times as if he was sinking into some deep thoughts, while patting his fingers in row on the streamlined back of the bench "Tell the old fart the drinks are on him once I'm back home." Kevin said quite assertively, which found the female somewhat off-guard as she giggled self-consciously in return "Well, take care."

"Hang on!..." she called out and Kevin halted his move towards the dismiss button; then she continued shortly "Is the _weather_ nice?" this time there was a definite concern in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah pretty much, no worries! It's charming" he answered, but only the expecting silence of a faint breath came back through the line "Sarah, it's _all_ right; just like at home! Only sunnier." he added as he made sure his voice was doubtlessly assuring and confident this time.

"…All right!" came the short reply "I don't want you get sunburns, stay in the shadows!"

"Jahvol, my lady! See you soon!"

"See ya Kevin!" the woman concluded the conversation and hung up in a few seconds.

"Love you…"

_And there you go, loser. _He looked up.

Kevin hardly suppressed the smirk in the corner of his mouth as he glanced at the man sitting on the bench in front of him, who glimpsed in the other direction immediately as their eyes met: seemingly doing nothing in particular apart from idling with his right foot tapping hectically on the fine gravels of the park's pathway. Having the upper hand, Kevin leant back, taking a deep breath looking around the park, regarding the few people passing by just to shortly arrive at the man's face again; in a moment he looked back at him. The fleeting few seconds told everything about the man's frustration; his expression was like a beacon messaging his anger over his presumed failure of being noticed, and probably for being reckless; ground between blaming himself and his target for his embarrassing position.

Kevin knew the feeling. It wasn't a situation that was inherently lost from the perspective of the surveillant, as long as he could control his behaviour; but the man completely lost it: _he was either barely experienced, or a total amateur. He might have been working for some crime lords, or maybe for Kingsley himself. _These thoughts ran over Kevin's head as he lightly reached into his breast-pocket and put on his shades, which now covered his eyes entirely. That was the moment when the person opposite finally stood up and strode away at speed towards the middle of the park. Kevin followed suit in a comfortable pace, after all he was heading that way anyway.

In the middle of the roundabout, at the junction of the main pathways of the park stood the gigantic, silvery statue of the Nephilim. The biblical figure stood wings spread out, protectively providing shelter to an adult human female standing behind a teenage boy, who was holding a huge shield in one hand and a sword in the other firmly. Whenever walking this way, Kevin couldn't pass it without musing on its meaning; thus it was an effective piece of art for sure – he thought. But this time he wasn't gazing at the immense monument for the visual pleasure or to weave long philosophical thoughts; he was much rather interested in the fine-polished shield of the boy, which like an oversized traffic mirror, neatly reflected everything behind and around him.

By the time he suddenly stopped in his tracks before the giant composition he has already counted eight persons coming behind him, and ruled out three of them who seemed to be a couple with their kid –assessing that they were unlikely being part of his _escort_ –. Now he quickly reviewed the remaining five from the mirror image, finding that one of them rashly slowed his speed from a light walk to a mere saunter. From that distance the man still hasn't noticed how the reflection gave him away, and kept staring at his target from behind, but Kevin was already looking for a forerunner - _if they were doing it good_.

He found his heartbeat returned to normal. The excitement was mild and finally his moves started to come from routine. He padded across the park, passing a little group of children playing with a varren. The beast was popular and wide spread across many worlds – they used it as trained "dogs", for illegal fighting, hunting, military purposes and some even served it as delicacy; although its fashion was catching on slowly with humans. People still preferred their own Earth-bred dogs, and Kevin shared this thought that if he wanted to keep a dog, he would go with the original concept of the word.

The next moment the varren opened its enormous mouth, flashing its menacing fangs as it energetically leaped at a small girl holding the retrieving ball. Kevin froze as a chilling shiver crept up his spine to the top of his head in the wake of the high pitched scream of the girl … just to see her the next second giggling while lying on her back as the varren was playfully licking her face.

_Yeah... cute and fluffy things are the way to go; definitely; that or my heart. _He made the mental note as he sighed in relief.

Kevin eventually reached the entrance of the City-Train station. With a pre-paid weekly pass on his account his omni-tool merely flashed a light when he crossed the gate and strode to one end of the platform. It was not rush hour; however the City-Train still proved to be a popular way of travel in the afternoon at this part of the city. The crowd of passengers was swirling closer to the safety line glowing red along the side of the platform. The waking breeze, gradually growing into a fierce wind heralded the arrival of the train. The vehicle was electromagnetically hinged on a rail running above, yet it gained its stability from the mass effect field emitters glowing and sparkling blue on the underside of the wagons. The blinding white paint of the carts was in tune with the white and brushed steel interiors of the station, providing an utterly utopistic sight to the eye. Kevin felt it almost mesmerizing. The city spent fortunes on keeping the streets and public places clean, and definitely that money found its place.

The doors slid open and the glowing red line on the floor flashed three times before changing to blue; as if shackles were cut, the passengers whirled on board, taking seats. Kevin was demurely standing aside, letting everybody board the train until the Virtual Intelligence controlling the City-Train network warned to clear the closing doors. Kevin looked down the platform to see as three more people was hopping on in the last second and only one of them whiling hesitantly, throwing a doubtful glance in his direction. The line flashed three times and changed to red. The man looked around nonplussed and in the last second hopped on the train. Kevin stepped away from the doors and nonchalantly leant against one of the robust columns supporting the transparent roof above the lounge. _And that makes it three._

* * *

**_Room 1916, Hotel Harrington, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 22:15 LT – 2182.11.07 CE_**

Flowing green and blue lights were playing on the wall with the abstract forms of a painting hanging above the double bed. Half-open venetian blinds drew bars of confinement onto them with no avail. The low humming of the air conditioner and the faint resonance of the throbbing bass, coming from the roof of the hotel, which hosted an enormous party, established the background for Kevin's thoughts as he ruminated over the day:

_Soon after the train left without him, the second man he spotted earlier arrived at the platform. The man was still unaware that his cover was blown, and Kevin decided to leave him at his belief. He accommodatingly let the man follow, as he got on the next train and headed right back to the Harrington hotel where his room was. He had become pretty certain that one more guy belonged to the group, which was trying to track him down, and two other men about whom he was not entirely sure. However he established two important things: they were either too few in their numbers for the task, or they grew distinctly overconfident; Kevin could not find any other explanations why the two, already burnt guys returned, even if keeping a significant distance from then on. And secondly he finally knew most the crew working on him. This left him with minimal uncertainties that felt quite comforting on one hand, but with their motivation still unknown, he would have passed the treat gladly._

_When he arrived at the hotel he knew that two of the trackers came in after him, but he showed no sign of his awareness; instead he bespoke the receptionist aloud, like they were old friends and in a chatty manner revealed his schedule for the rest of the day: he was going to take a rest in his room, then visit Central Market for some business by 19:00 and return to see the rooftop party at night. "That is a brilliant choice Mr Bell! I would also recommend the Zero Hour programme just before the main event. It is going to be an imitational beach party on the wellness level at the pools." Kevin acknowledged the suggestion with a thankful smile. "And here you are, sir: Room 1910! If you need anything else, sir, just let me know." the receptionist said as he imparted the key card to him._

_"__Will do" and with that he strode to the elevator to reach his room as soon as possible._

With his back against the comfortably adaptable mattress of the bed, he hugged his HK-made Kessler handgun closer to his chest as his index finger slowly grazed back and forth over the scraggy surface of the safety switch. He casted an eye sideways at the bedside table: his backpack was lying there with its mouth open. In the poor lighting he could still take out the silhouettes of the shiny metal framed glasses; as much as it was a sudden idea, he did not repent buying some local specialities at all; He even had the chance to taste some liquors and whiskeys, and well, they were intriguing to make him buy!

_He spent plenty of time at the Central Market. It was amazing how many delicacies and luxury items were put on the show for the customers, who poured in from all around the galaxy. And well, considering his relatively short service record, most of which spent Earth-bound, Kevin did find their proximity rather… alien. He tried to grasp the sensation in an attempt to understand the unsettling feeling in him. What was this excitement about? Was it fear, angst or curiosity? Or all of these? He subconsciously kept his distance from them. He noticed that when his way led beside a group of asari strolling down one of the countless alleys in the Market, and a sudden wave of discomfort overwhelmed him for a brief moment when he realized that his legs would have rather taken him autonomously the longer way around, than passing too close to the little group of bluish skinned beings. He hated few things more than when his actions were determined by visceral reactions; felt like his life being hijacked by his own body – and he could not let that be!_

_He passed them within the reach of an arm, regarding them with maybe more than what he hoped being a transient glimpse. He heard a lot about the asari, described as the most attractive species of the known Milky Way; and the most influential at that. The thought triggered his caution and shot his hairs on his arms straight up when one of them glanced back at him. The strange, streamlined, tentacle-like skin-folds on their skulls looked almost tolerable – one could have imagined them as props from an old Star Trek movie, applied on a human actress – but where the folds met their membrane-like ear canals, the different underlying structure of their head became obvious, and definitely unsettling; let alone their ridged backside of their neck. But what was new to him and lingered to haunt his thoughts, were the eyes of this asari his glimpse just met – before he quickly turned away: they were so deep, so familiar, yet so distant! He could see the well-known spark of intelligence at an odd contradiction with the subtle distinctness from the human look. The antithesis of which used to be possibly only one thing: animal. _

_Kevin wandered on with sojourning and conflicting feelings in the immense spaces of the Central Market, but the vivacious atmosphere of the place drew him in soon again. Given located in the city centre it was the face of all what Bekenstein had to offer. The main level was occupied by the most prominent companies and manufacturers, but the several storey building housed thousands of shops and stands for smaller ventures, too - located at higher or lower levels respectively. Intertwined with escalators and elevators, and with the cleverly lit massive concrete beams running across the structure gave the impression of a monumental glass hive from a distance, especially at night. _

He wondered if those colourful lights on the wall were actually coming from the Central Market. As he turned his head the other direction, his vision was party obscured by a tuft of dark, ruffled hair. Kevin winced and blew the stripe away from his nose.

The woman was lying still, eyes shut; her face was pale and her lips slightly apart with smeared rouge tracing down her chin and smudged in patches around her mouth. Kevin switched the safety lever and the light on the side of the Kessler consequently turned red. Sitting up and turning around on the bed he hooked his arms below her armpits and dragged the young woman's body up onto the pillow and covered her figure with the thin blanket, when his omni-tool's interface suddenly manifested around his arm, startling him for a moment. He looked at the flashing text "Detector Front Door: Intrusion Alert".

_As soon as he got back to his room he closed the shutters and dashed to his backpack in the wardrobe. He dug his finger between the seams along the side of the bottom padding and zipped it open. The hidden compartment was holding small black and transparent plastic boxes and wires; there was no scripts written on them except some simple engraved markings of their orientation and barely visible orifices on them._

_Kevin threw the contents of the bag on the double bed. His hands worked with haste, but trained efficiency. The small parts were soon assembled and placed around the room; time by time he stopped by the room's haptic console to check on the door's peep monitor. _

_He came with two bags. Actually one of them was a bigger luggage that now lied open at the side of his bed. He carefully slid his travel documents in its side pocket along with his company brochures and some Earth magazines. There was also his datapad that he casually dropped on the middle of the bed with the blanket wrinkled to the side. When everything was in place, he reached inside his other bag and detached a Hahne-Kedar handgun from its inside fastener. The Kessler was small in its compact form, and neatly fit in his grip. As he grabbed it though, the gun came alive and through the series of quickly shifting panels and components it assumed its real, larger form in his hand. _

_"__Okay, let's see: integrity – check, eezo – check, heat-sink – check, ammo – check!"_

_He collapsed the Kessler and attached it back on the holster inside the bag. On his way out he dropped by the front desk and caught up with the concierge. "Ahm, excuse me, there would be a thing" Kevin drew him aside._

_"__I do not want my room cleaned or any maintenance what so ever until tomorrow evening"._

_"__Sir, we have strict regulations due to the possible allergic react… of other… species" his voice petered out as Kevin continued._

_"__I am sure, we can find a solution." Kevin put in firmly, staring at the white haired man, who froze in his speak and shot a glance to the right, breaking the connection between their eyes._

_"__Sir, if it was on Earth I might be able to bend the rules, but we are…"_

_"__Let's pretend we are on Earth. I just need some extra privacy. And I am not lying together with asthmatic aliens or whatever. Promise. That blanket will be fine for one more day." Kevin was not sure if his words were convincing enough, or if he could play around to eventually gain the man's sympathy, but the generous tip he slid onto the table emphasised his words enough. The man took the credits…_

In the dark his finger ran over the safety lever again. A silent, rising-pitch hoot and the indicator light turning blue warned that the gun was armed. Sliding up against the wall, he pressed on the faintly glowing haptic interface of the peep camera to see it was clear outside. But in the very next moment the click and hiss of the pneumatic door came to his ears. His muscles stiffened, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. He swiftly turned around the corner, pointing the gun towards the door out of memory to gain time.

"We are in." the stranger's voice whispered in his ears.

"Damn it." Kevin shook his head taking a deep breath as he realized the voices were coming through his omni-tool's implanted vocal emulation module directly linked to the auditory nerves close to his ears. Uptight, he jumped back at the peep monitor to make absolutely sure the door was clear. Seeing no movement, he finally relaxed a little. He sauntered back to the bed, pushing the woman's bare leg aside, and sat back on the edge of the mattress, listening to the voices.

Within an hour the transmission went silent. There was nothing but static noise sizzling in his head. The detectors were all green, not picking up any movement for the last half an hour. He decidedly did not want to catch them in the act, so he kept the transmission live; he systematically collected his items from the room and rose the almost empty bottle of the fine Bekenstein Torchwood brandy to his mouth to take a last sip before putting it back in his pack.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this girl, but it's my time to return to my residency" he pressed the words out between his teeth through a smirk. He yanked his shirt's collar and looked down at the female body lying in a twisted pose without the slightest mark of grace on her disfigured expression. He shook his head as turned around; his lowered voice was almost lost in the hiss of the closing door "Servus, my dear!"


	2. Close Encounters - Part I

.

**Two Kinds the Same**

**Chapter II.**

**CLOSE ENCOUNTERS**

**Part I.**

Her eyes shot open. Faint green and blue lights were shifting on the wall, but her thoughts were still revolving around one thing...

"What a damn prat!" she peeked at the door with a weary groan. She clenched her fist and thumped on the plastic covered bulkhead beside her head, while shutting her eyes again in exasperation; the underlying metal wall answered with a muffled thud. She reluctantly turned to her other side, shifting uneasily, when a shooting pain stung into her lower back, stiffening all her muscles as she stifled a gasp.

"Ouch! Ouch, ouch..."

Not that she was finicky about it, but it always took her a couple of days to adapt to her actual doss whenever she slept at a new place. Considering her commission, that was not a rare thing. However, this time the mattress was doubtlessly uncomfortable. Being too occupied with her thoughts, she paid no further attention to her rigid limbs. _How could he think he would get rid of her so easily! …Again. However... one more night and this rack of torture would do the job for sure!_

Carefully rolling on her back, she stretched across the bed; her legs hanging off the far end of the mattress. The blanket folded and wrinkled inordinately as it hitched onto her sticking-out calf spurs when she pulled her feet back. The young turian woman lied like this, unmoving for a fleeting minute; enjoying the slightly cooler air of the cabin wafting under the blanket. The sensation felt refreshing, which was just the thing she needed to convince herself to get out and start the day.

* * *

**_Hierarchy Vessel 'Arcadias' [Utopia System – Exodus Cluster] – 05:25 GST – 2182.11.08 CE_**

Zaalia left her cabin in ten minutes. Regardless of being relieved from duty until her unit's departure, discipline ran thick in her blood: the morning on _Arcadias_ found her trimly kitted out in her working uniform's grey and blue shaded splinter-pattern camouflage trousers and her teal T-shirt. As she padded down the corridor of the quarterdeck, she was just one in the whirling stream of crewmen strolling on the passageways to pick up their shifts or, alternately, to get a bite at the mess – which were exactly her sentiments.

This was her third day on the cruiser, but she still had to pay attention not to get lost in the maze of hallways. _Arcadias_ was one of the oldest ships in the fleet, and of considerable size, serving the latest of her forty years under the Turian Engineering Corps – Zaalia could not recall the vessel's early history, but the name got imprinted in her mind for sure; given her team leader's notorious close combat skills allegedly acquired and honed to high standard while serving here with the Marines. Aside from its rigorous training, the starship provided a versatile platform for logistics, research programmes, and rescue missions, too. Today her patrol route crossed with that of an Alliance frigate; the _SSV Hong Kong_ was expected for a brief rendezvous with the turian vessel near the Mass Relay in the system at 08:30 GST, to take the visiting turian Spec Ops on board and ferry them back to Sol… _Damn._

She got lost after all.

Backtracking to the last crossing she just bumped into two passing crewmen, wearing the silver and blue colours of the _Arcadias_ uniform.

"Excuse me!" she addressed the crewmen.

The two turians noticed her different outfit on the spot, which would have not been a necessary giveaway of being a stranger here, but the scripts on her shirt reading 'Special Operations', definitely were.

"Good morning!" the two males greeted her, stopping in their tracks. The familiar smell of the medical wing filled her nose. _One of them had definitely come from the sick bay, or... was a medic?_

"How do I get to the mess deck?... New here" she added somewhat redundantly.

"That's easy. You see the elevator at the end of the corridor, right? You take the passage to the right, and go on until you face an information board at the end on the wall. Then just follow directions; it's not far from there in fact."

Using the short breathing space the other turian stepped in "So you are one of the Spec Ops… "

"Specialist Zaalia Gerumis" She nodded.

"Engineer Winger," he introduced himself cheerfully "nice to meet you!"

As it turned out, the other turian was an artificer called Granus. The pair seemed to be intrigued about her assignment.

"Word got around; we found it strange we were dropping you off to a human vessel".

"Well, we are on training as part of the Interspecies Exchange Programme."

"Yeah, but... in Sol? That's the Alliance's core system." Winger said in excitement.

"They surely want to show off their best they've got" Granus put in "I wonder what they can tell you that you already don't know. However humans had been using some really sophisticated VIs for combat, or so I heard. That could be interesting if they showed you any of that. I don't know how that was affected by Citadel regulations though."

"VIs are legal." Winger uttered.

"Well, humanity's R&D hadn't really been streamlined to fit Citadel law before they showed up, and I'd bet the ship on they were going for true AI. Hell knows what's left of that project!"

"Compensating for their lack of skill, you'd say?" Winger grinned, then turned back to Zaalia "Don't let them spoil you, Spec!"

"Actually, _we_ are going to train _them_." she smiled.

"Ah-ha!" they exclaimed in unison with an explicit nod. "Of course…"

"Anyways, we were heading for the mess, too. You tag along, Specialist Gerumis? If you're not busy or...?"

Zaalia gladly accepted the invitation. She had been roaming the deck long enough for her team probably having finished their meal already. The little group strolled down the hallway together.

The mess deck was lively despite the early hour. One could easily tell by the faces, which crewmembers were just to chow something down quickly before their shift, and who were the ones about finishing their working hours.

"Gerumis!" a raspy voice called out to her while standing in the queue with a tray in her hands. She raised her head as her eyes wandered from the assortment of foods to the tall turian male arriving behind her. His blue eyes seemed to glitter from the dark sockets of his brownish face plates, with a pronounced scar crossing his brow fringe. That was his trademark.

"Sir?" she turned to him, while advancing a step forward in the queue, so she could put her tray on the rails by the cubicles.

He lifted his arm indicating his watch showing the Galactic Standard Time in turian numeric symbols "5:65. Third day, and getting rusty?"

Artificer Granus and Engineer Winger cast a lopsided glance at the soldier, but didn't interfere with the waking conversation between the two.

"Just pried around a bit; wondered where you brought your twists and locks from." she grinned at Pretonus; the team leader seemed utterly appreciative of what sounded like her honest interest in _Arcadias_.

"And did you find any trace of it?" he cracked a cocky smile, and with a soft yet swift move he was already standing behind her, clenching her right arm in a twist.

"Hey!" she yelled defiantly wriggling in his hold. "Actually..." a huff parted her lips "... yes, I did!"

"Oh? And who is it?"

"Won't tell, but..." she subtly shifted her shoulder joints to gain some space for her breakout "...told me to... try _this_!" she suddenly dropped her weight and bolted her right leg behind his left with a spin of his waist. He didn't resist, thus she didn't need much effort either to eventually slip out of his grip, and point her finger up at his chin, imitating a gun.

"BANG!"

"You rely too much on your armature" he cast his eyes on her hand without moving his head "It's quite intimidating though." He smirked and locked eyes with her. This short moment was enough for him to grab her finger and initiate another joint lock and then quickly release her, when saw Zaalia catching a gasp while hastily bending to ease the unexpected tension. "Nice escape, though."

Automatically pulling her hand back, she shot a cagy look at him, flaring her mandibles, grinning as he threw back his head with a friendly smile – neither of them picking up, or caring about the prying glances from the _Arcadias_ crew over the playful tussle.

"I am checking the good old sparring room. You with me?"

"I am! Just let me take a bite; I am starving."

"Don't take too long! The _SSV Hong Kong_ is ahead of schedule" the team leader exhorted as he left to join another young turian male from the team, who had just returned his tray. "Taren, make sure the equipment is packed and ready!" he addressed the turian male briefly, while touching him on the shoulder. The private nodded in response then noticing her, waved at Zaalia before fleeing the mess hall.

Zaalia returned the gesture and hastily caught up with the queue as the two technicians were already probing for a free table. She picked louza – _you can't go wrong with that_ – and stashed some sradis roots as side dish. She didn't want to take something stodgy, but also considering their expected departure before lunchtime, she decidedly did not want to starve during the day either. Granus and Winger had been already sitting by a table with a turian woman that Zaalia guessed as being the same age or even younger than her.

"Hey!" she chirped.

"Hello!" Zaalia regarded her with a friendly look as she took a seat beside her. The two technicians were sitting opposite.

"Jorrin, this is Specialist Gerumis. She is with the Specs." Winger pointed briefly at her.

"I'm Jorrin; artificer, just like Rusty: she said, glancing at Zaalia as jerked her thumb at Granus. "Well, good to have you on board, guys!"

"The feeling is mutual" Zaalia's mandibles flared in a clownish smile.

"Well, sure thing this ship goes nowhere without us!" Winger put in.

"Is there much work around?"

"Quite a bit, to be honest, _Arcadias_ is on active duty; she has been for a while and it takes its toll. But, she has _heroes_ like us: we keep the old girl in shape as you can see" Winger spread his arms demonstratively. Zaalia automatically followed the move with her head as she regarded the hall. The place was clean and well-maintained, despite the unmistakable signs of wear on the furniture and the accumulated dust in certain hardly reachable corners and gaps on the bulkheads.

A cadet was standing by a vending machine impatiently. It contained desserts, fruits and other delicacies, which required refrigeration. He pushed on the buttons a few times; the console switched to green, but when he tried to open the hatch, it seemed stuck despite all the pressure he put in. His frustration only grew higher when his fellows started to play him up, offering their help for his lack of strength. He hit the sturdy open button once again ardently:

"Damn it! Why _nothing_ works here?!"

The Specialist slowly turned back at Winger with a broad, cheeky smile.

"_That's_ not my department!" he raised his hands defensively.

The very next moment a loud thud echoed through the bulkheads and the lights cut out. The casual jangle of the hall went to complete silence in an instant, when another clicking sound snapped in, and the lights flickered back to normal backed with the subtle up-tuning hoot of the restarting machinery in the room.

"I'll take a look, though." Granus said promptly and strode to the refrigerator at speed. "No, don't even touch it!" he called out to the cadet, who was still pottering about the console, now somewhat bewildered.

While the artificer checked the vending machine for any evident troubles, the three at the table turned their attention to their food. The technicians were to reach their positions by 06:00 GST and the Spec Ops Team was looking ahead of an early take off, too, so neither of them had much time left to finish.

Zaalia was slicing the fried louza into morsels, mouthing from the fork and chewing them reluctantly. She hoped the strong odour of the med bay lingering around the artificers would eventually be gone, but it came back to her whenever she inhaled or opened her mouth for a new bite. The whiff slurred through between her teeth and felt like sticking to her throat, spreading up pertinaciously via her pharynx to the nose.

"That will do it." Granus took place again.

"What was it?" Winger asked.

"That tripe is having a short in the dispenser mechanism. I unplugged it, but remind me to lick a warning sticker on till it's repaired."

"I hope the drive core won't shut down when I take my sweets from the cubicle." Zaalia joshed "My team might need to be on the move any moment, you know".

"No worries, Spec, you are not leaving for a couple of hours I bet my head on it." Jorrin said casually with the fork still in her mouth.

"Yeah, take your time. We are already on orbital trajectory above Xanadu, in a few minutes we start descending for discharge. Once at the right altitude no way would the Captain interrupt the process for the sake of dispatching you." when he saw Zaalia raising her brow fringe, he continued "It takes a wealth of fuel to do manoeuvres like that. Considering the size of Xanadu, it won't take longer than two or three hours though. The Alliance guys will have to wait a bit".

"Yeah, and us too."

"I will personally monitor the Drive Core for your convenience. It will be done in a blink of an eye" Winger grinned, radiating confidence."

"Charming!" Jorrin japed.

"I'm not sure if I should be happy, or anxious?" Zaalia added, jabbing her thumb at the faulty fridge. "I need to prepare a neat story for the humans why Arcadias was drifting with flickering lights when they arrived. Like: '_there was a crazy party on board!'"_

"You're not funny" the turian replied with feigned pique.

"I'm sorry, Engineer" she grinned mischievously, while Jorrin and Granus enjoyed the banter.

"So how did you end up in this interspecies training programme? Granus interposed.

Zaalia considered the question duly; as if this was the first time somebody asked her about it, and more oddly, she was surprised she didn't have a pre-prepared answer to hand.

"Well…" she started with a dilated breath preceding her next sentence "It wasn't really my choice..." in fact though, it was. "The Council urges interspecies programmes with the humans. They want them fit in the galactic bloodstream, I guess. The brass must comply with the directives and engage in these trainings. So one day we got the offer and we are here."

"Offer? You said it was not your choice to partake."

"Well, it was our detachment given the offer. Our squad leader accepted it and assembled our team to sketch out and deliver the training for the human counterpart. You don't reject such offers."

Zaalia was about being promoted to Corporal before she signed up for this mission. She was backed by her team leader, the platoon leader and also got positive feedback from the 17th Battalion's Commander. There was only one person raising objections: Captain Merunn._ Her grip stiffened on the fork just at the thought of it. _There were three platoons under his command; one of them was the Special Operations Detachment. Captain Merunn established the unit; as a former Spec Op, his name was the guarantee for a group excelling in proficiency, effectiveness, discipline, and last but not least: delivering results. Maybe it was his fond image of the detachment that he feared for when almost a year ago Zaalia handed in her request for transferring to Blackwatch; he rejected her request and held her back for an additional year, and since that she felt like the Commander was deliberately pushing her into training missions like this in the distant corners of the galaxy, instead of letting her doing drills with the unit. In the eyes of the operators such errands counted either as 'reward tours' or 'inconveniences', depending on how much one had to be involved in the organization and execution of the programmes. And somehow her name was always on the list among the first ones, and to rule out any misconceptions, Pretonus let her know several times that he got some suggestions directly from Captain Merunn on certain persons to select…

She reconciled herself to doing a few of these assignments, but her frustration was taking over seeing that he just continued to keep her under control. For a matter of fact though, the captain did not actually pose a concrete objection, _only_ held up her admission for revision, still, basically tripping her promotion in the process, and she had no real clue why. Was her transfer request such a splinter in his eye? She also had an alternate answer for that question, which came with a feeling of growing apprehension: _can it be her medical check-up results?…_

"Ah, I see" Winger nodded "And what are your sentiments on your assignment? From what you said I'm not sure you are thrilled."

"Oh? No, actually I like the idea!" she reneged, however, her company didn't seem convinced by her words "I really think these programmes are useful." she continued, seriously considering her words "It is beneficial to see other species' tactics and behaviour in combat. Seeing someone in fight tells so much about them; how you can rely on them, their assumable strengths and weaknesses. And you can learn a lot of unique details about how and why they operate the way they do, which might be hard or almost impossible to notice in a real situation."

"So if we ever need to fight again, we'll know where to kick them" Granus suggested, not entirely sure if that's where she was going.

"That's not the point. Although I don't know many examples where we deployed joint forces with the humans, but if we ever end up like that, it's going to be paramount to know what to expect from them. And it wouldn't be bad either, if they knew a thing or two about how we roll; so there would be no distractions and misinterpretations. Anything like that impedes team efficiency; thus can tip the scales in a life-or-death moment, you know." She lowered her right mandible for a subtle smile, before she started to sound too vocational.

But Winger already seemed more interested in the human substance of the formula, rather than the technicalities: "Have you trained with Alliance before? I heard humans weren't predictable or reliable, and also, a bit temperamental. They say their moody outbreaks must be because of their strict military doctrines. How they keep order like that is far beyond me!"

"Well, I have trained only with salarians, asari; even seen some krogan action up-close… and once I had the chance to meet a batarian instructor. He wasn't all charm, but he wasn't paid for his glamour anyway. No humans so far though." she confessed. Zaalia just realized she was so self-absorbed that she hadn't been thinking about the humans at all, but Winger's words now evoked some tension in her.

"Hah!" Winger cracked up "Just make sure you are on your toes, Gerumis, in case one of them accidentally loses their mind and goes all berserk on you!" then he changed his tone to a bit more confidential one "Word is they really took the Relay 314 incident to the heart. Come on, they still call it a 'war'. And I'm also sure not many turians wandered their home world in the meantime!"

"Is there anything you don't know about humans?"

"Yeah, why I see some of them wearing those funny diadems – how they call it – ah I got it: "hats", on the top of their head? That really intrigues me."

Winger seemingly invested much time and effort into researching humans, or at least remembered well the lessons and lectures they had been given in school and the boot camp.

"Why don't you just apply for a programme yourself?" Zaalia shot the question at the Engineer.

"Unfortunately, Spec, I can't allow the luxury of leaving my post".

"That's what the exchange programmes are for! You would be substituted by your human counterpart for the time; I'm sure you could find a programme that suits your specialization."

Winger frowned as he seemed seriously mulling over the idea. "I will check out the opportunities!" he promised.

"Next time we see you back, you'll be all manicured-pedicured off of your talons!" Jorrin giggled; Winger just rolled his eyes at the female's comment, but eventually turned back to Zaalia.

"Thanks for the inspiration; anyway... got to say, it was a pleasure, Specialist Gerumis!" he said as he glanced at the clock on the wall displaying the Galactic Standard Time on top, and below a series of different time zones that were in use around Citadel space "If we don't meet before your leave, that's 'cause we were working so good and fast!"

The technicians excused themselves; their shift was about to start: and Zaalia also wanted to test the gym before she left.

* * *

She casually walked into the exercise room. As a matter of fact, it was more like a huge hall, which reminded her of a fighting stadium with all the possible exercise equipment around the place that might be needed for training purposes, and to keep the crew in shape. _Wow._ She expected something much, much smaller, like their own gym at their base: with poor air circulation, dim lights, and old equipment.

"I hope you didn't catch it" Pretonus yelled at her from a short distance. He was already stretching his arms and legs.

"What?"

"That guy you hung with; he's got '_flaked carapace'_, for your info. I believe those slippery scales would not fit your skin, Gerumis."

"Maybe I like it slippery." she threw her head back sullenly, eventually twinkling a smile in the corner of her mouth. "But how do you know?"

"Had a chat with the combat instructor; great guy" – he jerked a thumb towards the figure of a turian with dark carapace, working out on some wall bars alone, given the early hour. His grey plates were shifting and lapsing along his spine and over his astoundingly broad shoulders as he pulled himself up and down slowly yet firmly, without the least shake in his muscles.

"He literally is" Zaalia added gaping at the turian's impressive physique and fitness.

"Watch the jaw, Gerumis." Pretonus pushed her on the shoulder smiling slyly;

Realizing her awkward expression, she snapped her mouth shut shaking her head smiling bashfully over her blatant lapse.

"Okay, let's warm up!" the team leader exclaimed as he frisked onto the square of mats, doing a few forms, kicking and punching out rapidly in the air. Zaalia shook off her shoes and jumped on the mats, too, extending her toes and fingers, subsequently bouncing around to relax her muscles. She did a few flexing moves to ease the still lurking stiffness in her deeper muscles around her spine.

"Shall we begin?" the soldier inquired tilting his head.

In reply the specialist tucked her chin down and raised her bare arms. The pair started to move about, circling slowly to assess each other's motions and scan for weak spots. Pretonus was waiting for her to come at him first. Zaalia slowly built up her pace to the point feeling brisk enough to shoot out her first strike. It was fast, but nothing more than a feeler. Pretonus deflected this and the subsequent five similar punches with ease, and gestured her to bring it on. He didn't have to ask twice.

Just as if they shifted up a gear, the tempo of back-and-forth smacks increased. Finally she felt operating like a properly oiled machine, smooth and swift! Unwilling to fatigue herself more than necessary, she shifted her focus to her footwork, readying her leg to wear his defences down. She pondered no longer, but burst out for a prompt kick on his front knee, quickly repeating with her back leg on his chest, but her attack was falling on his firm defences. He barely stepped back, but she definitely caught his attention. Zaalia couldn't hide her smile, seeing her momentum seriously surprised her partner.

"Don't stop!" he prodded.

"There is more from where it came from!" she boasted, but Pretonus barely had the time to prepare for absorbing her flash of a round kick, which was trailed in the next second by her series of punches, in an attempt to exploit the sergeant's slight reel. Pretonus was tall, but had a stringy, thin constitution. Zaalia's medium height – by turian standards – and even her light frame was sufficient to create enough force to dislodge him from his balance – given she applied her technique right. The soldier huffed as he parried the offensive, swiping her finishing hand to the side, which he instantly countered with a punch stopping only inches from her forehead. She could feel her nerves sending out a numb sensation of anticipation spreading over her face. _Well, that was close!_

Bouncing back, she reassumed her posture, but the solder did not let go; he was closing the gap between them by leaping after her immediately with his back leg arching towards her head, but she could already see he wouldn't reach her in time; she airily dodged aside, and her right hand was already prepped for going on his ribcage hard._ Yeah, he would finish that move with his back halfway towards her; "got you"...!_

She couldn't have been more wrong. And she realized that soon enough as Pretonus' continued to move fluidly in his spin, turning entirely out, with his back facing her now. She already knew what comes next, but she couldn't even finish chiding herself by the time the sergeant's other foot hooked around and abruptly landed on her guarding left with great impact. Most of it was taken by her skin's plating on the blade of her forearm, but she could feel the bruise on it regardless, while the shock knocked her out of balance. She desperately tried to back out and shift to the side to regain her composure. Pretonus definitely went for a more serious tone then what she expected based on his friendly invitation.

A swift jab passed her temple, then a subsequent hook coming from nowhere and a smack barely touched her crest. _Damn, if she could get close to grab him…_ but in the next moment her abdomen cramped in paralyzing pain.

Pretonus' knee reached her, slipping under her disordered guard. Her eyes widened as she gasped for air.

"Toughen up! You are better than this!" he barked and switched legs just long enough to let Zaalia raise her guard. He set off a salvo of light punches, powering up gradually, yet a _tad too quickly_. Zaalia deflected one hit after the other, punching back at the soldier, but her pierces slipped off his arms, until his fist reached through, landing under her ribs. She wavered in her stance and tried to stand her ground taking a half step back; her toe's claws were almost tearing into the mat, but the impact of the next blow made her knees flinch. Her vision got blurred as tears built up in her eyes; her physical strain felt twice as bad with her resentment over the sergeant's spiteful aggression; she desperately tried to distance herself, attempting to flip out, but Pretonus was already preparing a final right hook; his eyes were probing for the gap between her arms targeting her gizzard, when an acrid, female voice ripped through the wild swishing noise of chafing fabrics and carapaces.

"I see you still fight like a girl."

Pretonus stopped as he fell out of his rhythm, which came to Zaalia as a kind of salvation, allowing her to catch her breath. The sergeant's eyes widened in surprise recognizing the rather short, yet sporty turian woman watching them as she passed by the mats. Realigning his stance he turned halfway towards her, regarding the woman with a long, surly look.

"And I see you still look like a boy, Severan." Pretonus came back harshly.

The female stopped abruptly for a moment.

_She really had some long head horns for a woman _– Zaalia thought.

Severan slowly walked around the mats, revulsion sitting on her face: "Glad to find you still make a perfect reference point, Pretonus: you stayed the exact same barefaced bastard."

"I do hope though that you are getting on well with your lil sissy 'Toni... And that he was worth becoming the spook for, for the rest of the class. I half-expected you two getting married after the Academy – the romantic knight you were – fighting your princess's fights… has he grown some balls since then, or also left that for…?"

"…you are getting dangerously close to lose yours this time." she said, a wild flame flaring in her eyes.

"Come on Severan, when did you lose your sense of humour? Oh, wait, I remember: you never had one!"

Zaalia watched the unfolding squabble astounded. She just realized the sergeant was basically rope-dancing between maintaining his tough image, and avoiding getting physical with the female turian. She wondered if he was pulling the best of his diplomatic skills or was actually afraid of a fight; she soon had a strong guess though.

A snarky smile appeared under Severan's mandible as she raised her head "I found it funny though, when you slipped on the blood of your buddy's dripping nose."

Severan briefly glanced at the female Spec Op; seeing her finally recuperated, she turned her back on them and strode off towards the far end of the hall where a number of punching bags and a few metal frames with ropes and adjustable pulleys were located.

"You shouldn't meddle in other people's business all time, Severan!" Not intending to call much attention, Pretonus yelled after her once more, rather spiritlessly.

Zaalia just realized that even the burly combat instructor suspended his exercise and now eyed Severan across the room.

"What was that?" she turned to the fuming sergeant.

"Just a nuisance from the past…" he said furiously. "We were not on best terms in Academy. It's an old story, not important..."

"She seems big deal to me" Zaalia insisted, scrutinizing the team leader's face. "Kicked your ass?"

"None of your business, Gerumis!" he burst out in anger "Now shape up and let's continue! You are yet to impress me!" His gruff command growled into her ears.

"Thanks…" she grimaced. "I've had enough." she promptly jumped into her shoes and not even bothering with the fasteners, she set off towards the door.

"Hey, come back…" he asked, softening his tone, but she did not even slow down. "Gerumis, come back!" he called out firmly again, to no avail.

"Specialist Gerumis, get over here! It's an _order_!" his voice echoed.

Zaalia stopped in her tracks. She could hear her pulse throbbing in her ears; feeling the same kind of execration blistering in her chest that she felt whenever found Commander Merunn interfering with her career… Now, she got an order, which she had to and was always willing to comply with, however this was one of the rare, but unfortunately not rare _enough_ occasions, when Pretonus acted as an utmost jerk. Time by time he took advantage of his rank with a clearly personal agenda in situations when it didn't earn him anything but the last word in a trivial quarrel.

She reservedly turned on her heel and walked up to him, looking into his eyes "Yes sir?"

"That's more like it" he smirked, seemingly enjoying his position, but Zaalia saw the frustration in his eyes as well.

"What is your problem,… sir?" she inquired; her tone grave – just like her stare.

"We are not finished." he indicated to take off her shoes.

"This is not a scheduled training and I just happened to lose my interest in it."

Pretonus sidled closer to Zaalia, lowering his voice in a tone she couldn't decide if was meant to be menacing or confidential "Oh, I'm sure you are interested; considering your condition..." he cracked a lopsided smile. Zaalia blinked in surprise. Furrowing her brow fringes, she glared at the sergeant "I know what you are made of Gerumis…You are a fighter. You and me, we are the same kind..."

"Get to the point, Pretonus."

"The point is that you are not giving up, soldier!" he burst out in her direction.

Zaalia's body twitched in the fraction of a second. She evaded his fist with haste, dancing away, swiftly raising her guard; she could only thank to her reflexes that she wasn't gasping for air again.

"You have been one of my best men; one of the best warriors!" He was tracing her movement around; Zaalia fixed her eyes on him, trying to listen to what he had to say and also looking for his smallest stir that might give his next move away. "Let me tell you what bugs me: when you started training with the team, you were the most promising full-contact specialist, then you started to fritter away; recon, intel, mechanics, piloting, explosives trainings and what not! You dragged yourself into everything, yet nothing.

Zaalia frowned. She had no idea where this was going.

"You never go down the path all the way. Whatever you start, you step down half way through! What are you running from?" he asked, his brow fringes arching expectantly, but not waiting for an answer his two quick paced whisks slashed at the Specialist in an attempt to bring her guard down and get a hold of her hand. She countered with an effective twist on his grabbing hand that broke his hold.

His seemingly outright words struck her hard though. _Did he really mean it? Was she really like that? No… Damn jerk is just screwing with her head!_ An upset groan left her mouth as she threw an energetic cross-straight at him. He easily dodged.

"You are not putting your whole heart into it!" he pushed her extended hand aside, countering with an overhand that barely grazed her crests.

"I invest my time in what I feel for! Might I remind you, I am still the weapons specialist of the team; that's because I suck at everything, right?!"

"That's because you are good at it! But what I don't want to see is your unquestionable talent making you overconfident, comfortable and eventually: sloppy." He scampered in a blink of an eye, unleashing a chain of strikes. Zaalia felt she was becoming overwhelmed; he was taller, heavier and a more experienced in sparring than her. But there was no way she would have given herself easily after this… She noticed a gap between two punches; this was her chance. She leaped forward, her front leg laid over his lap, while her rear leg hooking behind his thighs; her whole weight suddenly resting on his knees, Pretonus could not hold his stance: the impact she clung herself on him with eventually pushed him off on the ground. His back was exposed; her arms wreathed around his neck in an instant!

Fairly surprised, he wriggled until managed to turn his head and throat towards her elbow to set his trachea free from the strain.

"Severan was better than me." he hissed while still fighting Zaalia's grip from behind "But I did not give up. This scar is my reminder for that." he reached back behind his neck and pulled her supporting wrist to the front, jamming it under his armpit. Now, free on one side, he turned for Zaalia to see and pointed at his forehead-fringe that bore the signs of that fight from long ago.

"And what did it earn you?"

"Respect."

"Definitely not from her!"

"That's a price I paid gladly."

"A year of my career spent as an errand-girl was not the price I was willing to pay!

Pretonus strained his muscles to spin around, and jump forward onto her. Zaalia was still lying on her back with him now in a mounted position. He leaned in close to keep her restrained.

"That was already your choice!" he whispered "When your transfer for Blackwatch was not countersigned, instead of seeing the chance you were given, you embraced your failure only; you had been given one whole year to hone yourself to perfection…"

"Well, nobody is perfect!" she uttered through her clinched teeth, breathing heavily under his pressure.

"I remember how you performed after you got the bad news. You were as active as dead xemna! And that was long before your med-check…"

"What about that?"

"You tell me."

"…I'm alright…"

"Yeah, I can feel that" he strengthened his hold against her vigorous writhing "_Late Excited Neurosynaptic Auto-plasticity… _I'm no doc, but extranet is my friend…"

"Not here!" she whispered anxiously, scowling at him.

He leaned in closer "Clause 34 says enlists may be held at the regular service system as long as it constitutes to unit coherence. I hope that clarifies why you should do as I say!

"You are threatening me?!"

"I throw you a ratline, now you start climbing!" he grunted, while hopping on her chest, fixating his knee against her head, and pushing her left elbow up to her temple.

"I don't need your help!"

"Well, as your combat instructor, I see what you would be capable of, if you were finally focusing on a single thing; for a start: on what I'm saying! …When you revert to rely on your armament, your fragmented supplemental knowledge, anything, you are merely making up for your shortcomings!"

She floundered, struggling to get her hands free, but his hold was too solid "And if you listened,…" Pretonus continued, reaching over her, low above the ground, closing her right arm into his firm embrace against his sternum "you would not repeat…" she resisted in a vain attempt raising her waist to roll him off "…the same mistakes…" he huffed, shifting his left leg above her neck from below"…AGAIN!" his back arched towards the ground, strutting her arm into a painful lock "You focus or you break, Gerumis!"

Zaalia was snarling under the tension of the team leader's legs pushing her body to the ground, while levering her arm against his thigh. Her breathing was laboured; her sight getting hazy. She knew she was running on her last reserves…

"I still prefer…" she groaned defiantly "… the best of both worlds!" with her free hand she swiped his leg off and thrust her hips up to prop her torso over it. She clenched her teeth to overcome the intense pain of her flexing shoulder joint, but now she gained relief… She felt that adrenaline flushed through her system condensing in her mind as uncompromising resolve.

She kicked out to the side, spinning ninety degrees out on her back to grab her opponent's right leg that he was still using to force her down. She hooked it under her armpit, holding onto his spur, and wreathed her left leg around to cross her ankles under his other thigh on the ground for leverage, while lugging her own leg spur against his calf to secure her position. Her move was fast and flawless. _No more talking, no more arguments._ She could not afford to lose the upper hand again. _She could not afford being schooled like this...!_

Hugging his leg, she threw herself back.

Pretonus rattled in the wake of the trenchant twinge in his knee; his body stiffened as he tried to reach out desperately to her legs, but she dug them even deeper under his body. Zaalia fiercely stressed his foot more…

He tapped out. She released him and rolled out to the side.

Her blood was throbbing in her veins, making her whole face pulsing with heat, the fast rhythm of her heart drumming on her ears. Her mandibles twitched as if her mouth was opening to say something, but eventually she remained silent, merely panting.

Exhausted, she cast a brief glance at the far end of the hall. She could have bet Severan _just_ returned her attention to the punching bag…

Inwardly, she smiled.


	3. Intermezzo

.

**Two Kinds the Same**

**Chapter III.**

**INTERMEZZO**

**_15:30 ZULU – 2182.11.08 CE_**

"What's up Kevin? You shouldn't even have come in! Look at the clock!"

"Fact is: I was missing you guys so badly, I couldn't resist even despite the _mass-lag_. Darn it, tell me it works!" he halted right by the coffee machine on the corridor pushing on the buttons, while he was approached by the man for a greeting handshake. Kevin threw his backpack on one shoulder as he returned the gesture. Although he'd been sleeping most of the way back to Earth, coming through the windows, even the pale light of the slightly overcast sky above London felt like hundred pins stinging in his retina.

"When did you arrive? You surely didn't have a long sleep".

_"__This vending machine is out of order. Please call maintenance." _a recorded female voice crooned sweetly.

"Argh!" he smacked his fist on the touch screen interface "Sorry Tom, say again?" He looked back at the man.

"Wow!" Thomas took a small step back with eyes widened.

"What?"

"Kev, you are the spitting image of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog!" he said pointing at his own eye.

"Oh shi…" Kevin exclaimed as he stepped before a reflective segment of the wall. He gingerly poked around the affected area with his fingers: the pouches below the eyes were pronounced with a slight hint of purple, while the white of his eyes were now encompassed by thick red capillaries. "Yeah, a coffee would definitely do some good!"

"Show your face to the doc and make that coffee two with prescription! Free coffee while it lasts!"

"Yah" he replied distantly. He was still staring at his horrid image.

"You still use it, don't you? Just came from replication, eh?" Tom asked guilelessly.

"Yep. It's good stuff." he said curtly as he set off down the corridor.

"I'm not sure if it feels as good as you say. To get doped you might better be away with Eximo! And also safer…"

"I could just get a prescription for that, too! Doc will be thrilled!" he said, rubbing his temple. "Look, just drop the topic".

"No wonder they're illegal, man. They are harmful."

"Nay, I'll tell you again: I get these fluxes because mine is cut back on performance; to be safer."

"But you're straining its boundaries, aren't you?"

"No, I'm straining _my_ _head_ by trying to take in all your tweeting about it!"

The pair walked on, Thomas still insistent to argue, but an unexpected sight came to his rescue as they crossed an automatic double wing door giving them way welcomingly. Kevin stopped in his tracks as he called out:

"What - the - hell?!" he stared eyes wide open at the exact same person who had been sitting with the laptop behind Jamal Kingsley in the pub back on Bekenstein yesterday.

The brown haired man slowly turned in the direction where the exclamation came from, subsequently a broad grin appeared under his chevron style moustache.

The glass doors slid shut behind Kevin and Tom; each wings of the door bearing the logo of the Systems Alliance split arch running above Earth, guarded by the spread-out wings of an eagle. The text running around the circular logo made no doubt about Kevin was at home: 'Systems Alliance Intelligence Agency'.

"Gerard! How in the nine hells you arrived so soon, you old fart!" Kevin yelled at the man. Regardless of the gag, he was probably in his other half of his thirties.

"Healthy nutrition: Mediterranean style!" he came back with a grin "…and cognac. Keeps me in shape; it's my formalin!"

"And if I needed help? A hostage rescue situation?" Kevin asked with theatrical pique.

"Then probably it would have been your best interest to keep me as far from that situation as possible!"

"That is actually something I agree. Thanks for the signal though, man. For a second I didn't want to believe anybody else would be so interested in our meeting. When I saw you chilling by your laptop switched on, I seriously gave it a thought that you might had just got so bored that you had to while away the time with some nasty vids."

"You were such a nice sight in that formfitting suit that I didn't need anything like that to entertain myself." he jeered, but also his brows gradually shifted for a furrow as his gaze fixed on Kevin's red eyes.

"Anyway, Kev" Thomas interrupted the banter "the boss has been nuts whole day. He's got your preliminary report."

"Ah yeah, I tried to make it look nice but… you should go and see him" Gerard added, still inspecting Kevin's tired face, but he quickly moved out to avoid the unwanted attention.

"What gives? Did I miss the spell-check?" he yelled sarcastically.

"It was nice serving with you, Kevin!" Tom patted his back, making the last slap into a push towards the further end of the room. Recovering from his initial stutter he strode to the elevator and greeted all his colleagues whom he passed by on the way. There were several cubicles with workstations for the staff in the huge rounded room, and there was an enormous, multiscreen holographic display bending along the wall halfway around. Now it showed general data about Earth weather, connection status with extra-sol SAIA stations and highlighted events marked with icons and timers. As he looked around, he could tell that most of the people were in today.

Exiting the elevator two levels above, he almost bumped into Sarah, who was storming at the elevator. She was member of the Officers Committee and as such her office was located on the same level with the head of their division.

"Hey!" Kevin said as he jumped out of her way just in time.

"Hello _hun_!" the chestnut blond woman yelled after staggering back in surprise, a grin crossing her face.

They were approximately the same age; he never asked her though.

"Hah, I did not forget it! Hang on, just hang on!" he sank on one knee placing his backpack on the other to unzip it. After a short while he pulled his hand out "…Aaand I brought you… this!"

"What? Oh come on! I thought you were joking!" she cracked up as she noticed the earmuffs in his hand.

"I was. But heck, that was the first idea popping into my mind!"

She took the earmuffs and placed them on warily, not to mess up her hair, while swinging her leg in the way of the sensor to keep the elevator open.

"Oh, this is what I've always dreamed of!" she imitated an overly sweet voice while trying it on. "However you just can't hit my size."

"No good?" Damn, I can never satisfy you!" he frowned "It should be adjustable."

"Play with it some more" she replied with a quick, yet futile attempt of changing the strap's size, and held it out to Kevin. "I got to run, keep it with you will you?... Ooor how about swapping?"

"Swapping for what?" he enquired, but he could trace her gaze back to the opening of his bag, where his stash of exquisite beverages was peering out.

"Sure thing! Make your pick!" he widened the mouth of the backpack. While she was inspecting the nicely curved bottles and the fine printed, engraved and embossed decals, Sarah's mind wandered: "When you called in code "birthday party" you sent the chills down my back. Who the heck were they?"

"I didn't know spells like that worked on your body," he glanced at her, just to catch Sarah's resentful look fitted with a hidden smile in the corner of her mouth, then he continued "No idea yet; probably working for the concurrency. But no worries, I took pictures. They are going through the vetting tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is Saturday."

"Even better, then let's put it next week!" he yelled victoriously until his eyes met her glare "...Fine, I'mma do it tomorrow when it's all issued in the system."

"That's more like it!" she smiled "All right, aw geez, I am already late!" Sarah's omni-tool was set in the way that a small holographic watch was always showing the time around her wrist. "Glad you're in one piece! See you on Monday, Kevin!" and with that she jumped into the elevator before the doors closed again.

* * *

_The boss was not in his best mood indeed. _When he gained entry to Colonel James O'Bryan's office, he seemed to be already leaving. His desk was clear and his locker's alarm interface flashing red: thus being armed. Kevin stood straight at the side of the carpet.

"Good day sir, you wanted to see me."

"I'm planning to leave for home today on time, so I hope your thoughts are well organized." He threw in, his tall figure facing him challengingly.

"Aye, sir."

"What was this?" the question was simple, yet demanding. Kevin just didn't know what; it was easy to slip before O'Bryan.

"The… operation, I assume?" since no reply came, he continued with a bolder voice "It was part of our stinger operation to infiltrate the Bekenstein smuggling network. We believe our target has access to circles of interest dealing with weapons smuggling and human trafficking… or alien, more precisely."

"Why are we investigating weapons smuggling? It is police competence."

"Erm… We discussed it earlier, sir, you authorized the investigation…" he started to doubt if O'Bryan read his early report at all. Or for the record, if he knew anything about the investigation he signed personally.

"I authorized the investigation on Bekenstein to sting an alleged terrorist conspiracy, if I remember right."

He remembered right.

Kevin did twist some words in that original report to make it sound more convincing to the brass.

"Well, our initial information is yet to be confirmed… and… and thus it was necessary to continue our investigation regarding our target…"

"Jamal Kingsley: a petty smuggler. I wouldn't trust him with getting a loaf of bread from the grocery, let alone delivering weapons of any kind! He got caught three times within a month by authorities on minor offenses!

"Actually, two of those checks were organized by us in cooperation with the local police"

Regardless, you managed to get the attention of some crime lords and now you made yourself a target, and likely endangered your would-be agent!"

'It's not like that…"

"Then, please explain me, when you were warned about surveillance, what made you think that leading them to your quarters would do any good to your cause."

"I could have shaken them off, but it is our interest to find out who they are. And to protect our agent" he suddenly realized that his reasoning might be good enough not only to regain his stature, but also to convince O'Bryan "Feeding them my cover story would put Kingsley's and my relationship to safer waters than letting them guess that I'm SAIA or police."

"Smart. Shall I remind you of your basic training? It wasn't too long ago, right? The less they know is the better. The less you use your cover, keeps it the stronger. You employed technical devices that we have the Operational Technical Department for!"

"I've got the training for them; I consulted the tech department. By installing the spyware on the NFC we took the same risk..."

"If a hotel employee would have found any of those…

"I made sure that…" at this time it was impossible to get out any good of this debriefing – or much rather a verbal hail. It was pointless to fight it. Let it pull you down, and hope that you can kick yourself off the ground once you are at the bottom.

"If surveillance would have found any of those, what would have you done? Did you think about it? Going in and shoot them? Explaining the reporters and the police that you just found that playing hide and seek during a secret service operation seemed to be a good idea! Are you bored in your recent position, Blauhorn? Can I do anything for you? Because I start to see that the other way around doesn't pay well to the _company_!"

"I would _not_ have killed anybody…"

"Then they would have killed you, or the agent! Either way, you screwed up! I want your detailed report on my desk by Monday morning. Find Montgomery, he will fill you in on your next assignment. Dismissed!"

He was already clad in a long black and grey coat, holding his umbrella with his elbow firmly against his side. He clearly wanted Kevin to leave before him probably to avoid walking together for any period of time on the way down; that would have been awkward. And the feeling was mutual: Kevin did not like that idea either, so he left at speed, taking the stairs instead to make sure they won't stumble into each other.

He couldn't put his finger on it, why the colonel was such an ass – like always. If he wouldn't have heard the same stories from his colleagues, he would have thought that O'Bryan had a personal piqué for him.

He took the turn in the stairways when he grabbed the rails with an abrupt stop, as suddenly the lights went out. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adapt to the faint emergency lights marking the walls to the nearest exit. Although, he's got some natural light coming in from the corridor, too, there was something else as well sifting into the dark staircase...

Muffled metallic thumps were coming through the walls from the elevator shaft. As realisation struck him, Kevin slowly continued his way on tiptoes with a broad and satisfied grin across his face...

Major Roland Montgomery was O'Bryan's deputy. As they said, it's the worst position: You take all the crap but you won't get any real power for it. But at least he had his own private office. It's a small formality; more than nothing. Kevin entered the office with a deep sigh. Roland was sitting by the table, browsing some folders.

"Hey, Kevin! Good to see you!" The major greeted him while pulling the curtains aside "Wow, for once maintenance started to work when they actually announced it..." he mumbled "Have you been to O'Bryan?"

Kevin strode up to him for a handshake.

"What do you think?"

"Take a seat. He wasn't thrilled; but that's not new, I guess. Though you look quite happy..."

"Nah, just my good nature," he waved his hand "But you know what I think? He is trying to imply that we shouldn't work at all," he leant back in the chair, puckering his lips clownishly "he is just too shy to tell us directly;" 'cause as long as you do nothing, your arse is safe!"

You were good, Kevin. Maybe I wouldn't have tried to pull off that trap you set up, but it worked, so it's cool with me! Nice work in the end. The boss has been a bit nervous lately, but I can't blame him. Divisions will be reorganized next year. Corridor-rumours from the top tell that maybe SAIA will be divided into a military and a civil branch, both of them operating on galactic level. James wants to get some good results and stay clear of any problems until it all plays out. It can cost him dearly.

"Yah, and it can cost dozens or hundreds or thousands of lives dearly, but who cares after all, unless it's somebody's chair toppling! Really. Who would take responsibility for that?"

"I don't know, but the boss knows how to play his cards. He has always known. I don't always agree him and his style or methods, but he definitely has more insight than what he shows. Just do as he says."

"I'll find it out on Monday."

Yeah, that's one thing. But there is another. You'll have some errands to run in the meantime.

Kevin narrowed his eyes. "What errands?"

"How do you feel 'bout playing Liaison Officer?"

"I can't even imagine whom would I liaise with," a random guess struck him "Is it infiltration?"

"Nope; Jeffery Wilkinson from External Relations Division just fell out and they can't provide more guys for the next week. It is just one week."

"What am I gonna do?"

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh come on! It can't be that bad!"

"You might have heard of the Interspecies Exchange Programmes."

"Or it can…" he mumbled "Hang in there; i_nterspecies_?"

"I'm itching by the thought of it. The Council pushes it down our throat... The programme covers almost all levels of the military structure. Piloting, aerospace- and ground combat, engineering, task forces, and galactic security. Though there is good in it. We can study their strategies and tactics point-blank."

"What species are we talking about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Turians..." he fixed eyes with Kevin.

In turn he was gazing at him for a few long seconds. He recalled the image of the "raptor-people" in his mind: razor sharp talons and teeth, scaly skin with crocodile-like spikes and ridges all over their body, elongated, dinosaur-like head and a skull-like face with piercing yellow eyes... He wouldn't expect more intelligence from such a creature than that of a clever bird.

"If I remember right..." he started reservedly "...we kicked their arses pretty bad at Shanxi. They might gain much more from this than we do."

"Might be, but it's bigger than us. We've got an order, and we have to comply. You know the Special Task Force was established within the SAIA during the early summer. This is a new thing to us; we are working on their proper integration. The brass wants us to have in-house tactical fast response capability. Now, considering that we will hardly get more resources for the foreseeable future, we will squeeze the hell out of poor task force guys. I'm already feeling bad for them...They will need to be as versatile as an omni tool, and if anybody, turians are praised for their multipurpose military units."

"Okay, but what do I have to do with this as a Liaison Officer? I guess I'm not being transferred to STF… right?

Montgomery stared at him, without the least sign of humour. The smile slowly started to fade on Kevin's face.

"Of course not!" He grinned and returned to his more serious tone "but these programmes had started only a couple of years back; we are still one of the first in the series; all eyes are on us. So we are making sure our guests are happy, their needs are satisfied and leave with a big smile on their face."

"Yah…" Kevin imagined a smiling turian and instantly regretted he did so"...wait, satisfying what?!" Kevin exclaimed "I thought I was to greet and show them their rooms, but not being their butler or something!"

"...In the beginning of the year there was a joint Marine training programme, we've got a short cooperation with the salarians between March and April, here we go now for the following three weeks, and as far as the schedule goes, there is one engineering exchange early next year with the _SSV Perugia_ included. Given the chance to infiltrate, if the brass gives us the nod, we might also have some work to do about it... So unless you preferred playing an engineer on an alien ship, I'd take this task instead and say later that you've done your part and your face had burned out."

Kevin considered Montgomery's words duly.

"So yes, there is almost nothing that could go wrong – that is what I would say if it was a simple international issue. Even a SWAT team from the most conservative part of the world would be a simple gallop, but this time we've got some _aliens_; on Earth. External Relations have been working to prepare everything for months. The gears should run oiled, just make sure you are not a grain of sand between them, and you should be fine." Montgomery put in turning to the side, typing away on his console.

"Considering our lack of barracks, similarly to STF, our guests will be accommodated in the SAIA apartment."

"Oh great!"

"You might get some new neighbours!" He added casually "And here is the schedule. You are supposed to give them orientation tomorrow morning. It's gonna add to your overtime." he pressed a key on the haptic interface and subsequently a short beep on Kevin's omni-tool indicated the incoming message. "Ah yeah, and you better finish before the electricians shut down the UPS at 9.00 pm," he said while settling back into his work.

"I hope you can read my happy face!" Kevin snarled "When do I start?"

Montgomery snatched his head up as if he was surprised "Are you still here?"


	4. Close Encounters - Part II

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**Two Kinds the Same**

**Chapter IV.**

**CLOSE ENCOUNTERS**

**Part II.**

**_Heathrow Spaceport, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 18:45 UTC – 2182.11.08 CE_**

Droplets were racing down the huge glass wall. The sky turned almost completely dark due to the thick clouds, which also brought the cold, drizzling rain that made the view even more depressing. He was gazing at his obscure reflection lit by the cool white LED tubes of the VIP terminal's waiting room.

"They're gonna love it." the taller, bald young man said impassively.

"Yah." Kevin added, mimicking his tone, while trying to control his rising heart rate.

"Will you tell me when you are about to pass out?"

"Will you shut up?"

He caught up with Ante Erceg from External Relations soon after his briefing with Roland. The officer was the other person appointed to the turians beside Wilkinson – whom Kevin was replacing for the next week. Kevin came to a quick agreement with Ante that he would sit by the wheel and let Erceg entertain the guests on the way to the apartments.

He snapped his eyes at every new flashing dot appearing in the sky, then punctiliously glimpsed at his omni-watch and the screen projected above the benches, to check the arrivals. The top entry was '_Shuttle LV426 – SSV HK'_, due in any minute; he could tell by its freshly changed status to _'Entry'._ He pinned his eyes on the sky.

Most of the heavy air traffic was directed in a way that a vertical corridor was cleared for space vessels entering and leaving the spaceport. The flashing lights of the countless aircraft put out this less busy, scarce patch on the sky, which was easily visible in clear weather at night; he usually enjoyed the sight of the twinkling dots, doubled on the giant mirror of the Wraysbury Water Reservoir with the old airport's irradiation in the background, but now it was a hazy mess with the eerie will-o'-the-wisps phasing behind the curtain of rainclouds, wobbling above Heathrow.

Kevin noticed his palms were cold, yet sweating again; just like on their way here. He rubbed them against his trousers and tried to recall what he had learned en-route.

To his misfortune, Ante was not much of a xeno-specialist either. The man was transferred from MI5 not long ago; handed in his request to the division where he knew his application could get some push in the selection process. _It is good to have friends here and there._ He was about six years older than Kevin, being in his mid-thirties; which came with some extra diplomas, and also some field experience and a wide encyclopaedic knowledge.

While driving to the spaceport, the man tried his best to search for some basic description on the turian physique and social behaviour, but despite his efforts Kevin still felt just like before entering a dentist's consulting room; and to be honest: he couldn't remember a thing about what Ante read out to him.

A steady patch of light appeared and started to grow brighter in the middle of the aerial corridor. The two men fixed their eyes at the approaching vessel. The Kodiak gracefully descended to the point where they could take out its details, such as its Alliance decals and the tail number in the lights of the landing pad, to confirm that it was in fact the shuttle they were waiting for. In a minute the vessel was already touching down not far from the terminal, stirring a vortex of vapour above the wet asphalt in the wake of its thrusters' turbulence.

"All right, here we go."

A bus has set off to sidle by the spacecraft; the two officers padded down to the reception storey.

"Okay Kevin, you just flash your thirty-two and let me do the talking." he said, keeping his eyes on the arrivals.

"The stage is all yours, man." He stepped aside letting Ante coming forth; he had rarely ever been more accommodating.

The bus' headlights dazzled them for a moment, before it hauled to a stop with its side facing the terminal entrance. The doors slid open; five lean figures pressed through with their huge kit-bags in their hand or across their back.

Kevin has never seen any turians up-close earlier; if their strange silhouettes weren't alien enough, their movement surely sent the creeps down Kevin's spine. Until they crossed the threshold where some diffuse light could reveal more of their forms, he could only take out five shady bodies, like some strange, thin puppets, which came to life from the depth of a film studio's ages-old storage, sauntering towards them in a disturbingly unnatural way.

The experience of seeing those oddly shaped figures that his mind had been unsuccessfully trying to bind to its closest resemblance: humans, yet different enough to not know instinctively how the muscle structure of such a being would support and propel their frame, made them fall right in the uncanny valley.

_People got used to all kinds of monsters, fantastic creatures and giant robots; cameras also brought the greatest beasts to just a few inches on the holo-screens, but when such a thing is there, breathing, live, within the reach of your touch, that's a creepy feeling!_

Two Alliance guards were standing at attention by the door frames. A third uniformed member of the staff asked for the identification of the arrivals. This barely took a few seconds of their time as a detector gate scanned them with their data appearing on the screen behind the cabinet where the man stood. Each time one of them passed through, their omni-tool fired up, as the device read it.

"Would you hold it there for a moment, sir?" the security officer held a hand up, then typed away on his console; he frowned as he compared the ID photos with the face of the only turian in the group that had no colourful markings on his face. The alien was eyeing him patiently in the crossfire of the flickering scanner and anti-germ lasers."

"As if he could tell the difference," Ante leant in whispering cynically.

"I assume he is looking for a resemblance." He replied absently, appraising the stringy creature before him.

"Whatever."

Erceg stepped forward, when the leader of the alien group reached them.

"Good evening, sir! 1st Lieutenant Ante Erceg, Liaison Officer, Systems Alliance, External Relations."

"Nice to meet you, sir! Sergeant Varian Pretonus of the 17th Battalion Special Operations detachment. Thanks for the _warm_ welcome." the tall soldier nodded indicating the weather, with a grin – _or was it?_

It wasn't only Kevin who felt nonplussed for the next moment. Was he ironic there? They were trying to read the turian's face desperately.

"Well, this is my colleague, Kevin Blauhorn; he is from Intel...

"...in fact the same directorate! Liaison Officer Blauhorn; nice to meet you." he cut him off, but suddenly became unsure about his next move. He instinctively held his right hand out to the alien, wondering if it was appropriate. The turian glimpsed down then fixed its bird eyes at him. Yeah, it was definitely a dental-drill-is-coming-in moment. He was not used to feeling like a prey, but the blue sparkling eyes pinned him like an eagle assessing its target. His excitement made him completely forget he was about to touch a turian. Pretonus regarded him briefly, then eventually grabbed his hand and shook it somewhat exorbitantly, explicitly nodding his head. The strong and thick fingers felt like the grip of an oversized parrot – the only thing he could relate to. Kevin suddenly remembered the turian gesture Ante read about; now it was him a little overdoing his part… Pretonus quickly sprang back to avoid the human's forehead coming in close, as he bowed.

The scene audibly woke some hilarity among the rest of the team as they watched the two holding hands.

The team leader cast an eye to the side at his men then released his grip, stepping aside to let his people advance forth to be greeted by their hosts. Kevin rattled out his name a few times as the turians passed him following their sergeant's gesture of exchanging hands, seemingly paying attention to keep their heads away, as if they were half-expecting a head-butt.

The team leader was followed by a massively built soldier with remarkably long horns going back on the top of his head; then one that introduced himself as Corporal Demian Efrux; and there were two, visibly smaller and skinnier, also probably younger turians, coming behind him: the shorter one with the light carapace and a softer voice being a specialist, the other, with a bluish metallic shine to his non-tattooed carapace was a private, called Taren.

Remembering the strange names was a feat Kevin one-sidedly passed to Erceg; he planned to catch up on that later. Instead, he trotted up to join the team leader and Erceg, leading the rest of the group out of the building.

"I hope you brought some warm clothes. We are having some windy days coming up," he said, indicating the turian's thin jacket.

"We were informed by your colleagues well ahead that it's going to be wintertime, so yes. They also said though that it's not that bad in this corner of the Earth."

"Believe me, it is." Kevin leant closer and said confidentially. "I don't know if you have strong winds on Palaven, but here it blows through you right to the bones almost all the time. During winter, you just get the cold water vapour as an extra. I mean, he's been living here for a decade and look at his face..."

The turian turned his head to regard Ante's indicated facial features. The officer stared back at Kevin with his most sulky expression.

"See?" an ear-to-ear smile crossed his face as they walked on "So… Is it all your baggage?" he pointed at the kit-bags.

"We've got some crates, too, but the crew insisted on trolleying them in."

"Yeah, we would like you make yourself at home." Ante put in.

"That's why it feels strange… but I can get used to it!"

The two officers walked them out to the parking area. Their baggage was already placed orderly by the minivan with two porters waiting at attention. As the group arrived, the vehicle identified its assigned driver, and unlocked the doors. Nobody could deny the turians made a smooth team. They were packed and ready in a few seconds, before the porters could even reach out for the crates, and to the humans' relief all their belongings fit into the van just perfectly.

Kevin stepped on the accelerator and the electric engine wound up with its peculiar whine as they were speeding out of the VIP parking lot, crossing the gates under the raised barriers. The high traffic on the roads belied the bad weather and the relatively late hour. Pairs of the most distinctly shaped headlights – real piece-of-arts – passed them, and they fleetingly lit the streamlined interiors of the van. Kevin switched some music on set to a moderate volume to fill the silence.

"How's your journey been?" Ante broke the monotone whirr of the tyres after a while, his eyes flicking from one turian to the other, indicating he'd try to draw all of them into the conversation. However, as it was, they waited for the highest in rank to answer.

"Splendid, sir. It took us three days to get here; most of it spent on one of our cruisers, then a short joyride on the _SSV Hong Kong,_" Pretonus replied.

"Ever been to Earth before?"

"No, it's my first time… and I'm afraid it is for the rest of the guys as well," he said peeking to each of his sides. His comrades nodded respectively."

"We hope you'll like it here."

"I'm sure we will sir, but we didn't come to dissipate. We are looking forward to work together with your guys. Have you served with the Alliance armed forces?"

"No, however we are an armed service, too." Ante said almost defensively "We have servicemen from police forces, military, aerospace forces, intelligence services and even people coming from the civilian sphere."

"Is it common that civilians apply to interplanetary secret services right from the street?"

"Not how it used to be, but you can find green members of the staff like that. Care to share your own experiences, Kevin?" he raised his voice to make sure it reaches to the driver's seat, sneering at the 2nd Lieutenant's expense.

"I would, but senior staff _like_ _you_ might not have the heart to take the rough parts!" he fired back.

Efrux snickered, while watching the passing lights of the outer city outside the window through glazy eyes. The conversation mostly continued between Pretonus and Erceg. The rest of the guests seemed to be either too tired or just comfortable with their position of not being necessary to join the customary courtesy-talk.

"And what are you doing, sir?" Taren put in.

"I had been serving with our national service for quite a few years; may I say I spent ten of them out in the field, before transferring to External Relations."

"That was intelligence gathering, right? Are we talking 'behind-enemy-lines activity?'" Pretonus interposed.

"No, it's more like counter-extremism."

"Interesting to see there are ideological tensions among humans, too. I expected it, I just never heard of it." he said thoughtfully "I imagine the job was a mind-game rather than a pack of action."

"Sort of, but, I had my edgy moments… one time my transmitter went dead right when I was to summon our commando at a warehouse. I had to talk the target's head off to earn time until the entry team positioned closer, to tap onto my words; actually I kept repeating the code for immediate entry in all possible contexts till they finally heard it." Ante gazed ahead as if he was brooding over his glorious past "Yeah, there were a few _where I was hanging by a hair._"

"Hmm." the turian nodded in acknowledgement, but Kevin snapped:

"A clear indication you are lying." he reached back where Ante was sitting facing the rear of the van, and mockingly patted his shiny head, flashing an elfin sneer in the mirror.

* * *

Kevin slowed the van; its regenerative brakes gave out a deepening whirr until he stirred the wheel and stopped before the main gate. Shortly the wings folded aside, giving way into the interlock area. The vehicle rolled over the security scanner, while Ante saw the guests to the agency's security desk, preparing them for entry.

"20:23! And _that's_ what I call a timely home-run! You get it man, right? _Home-run_." he winked at his colleague.

Ante's eyes made it clear that he got it – considering the murderous stare.

The apartment complex was separate from the rest of the SAIA buildings, but was still within the confinement of the compound's walls. The five storey building served as temporary in-house accommodation provided by the agency to its workers and guests, while also housed the medical facilities in a section of the ground floor. Given its completion was no longer ago than six or seven years, the design of the frontispiece and the interiors looked modern and up to date, just like most of the SAIA compound which consisted of similarly new or freshly renovated premises; making the general staff wonder why the hell they needed to stumble into recovery sites all around the place.

"Heck, these guys never give you a break?" Kevin muttered as he overtook the white maintenance van decorated with yellow and black stripe decals, which was parked right before the hedges in front of the apartments, and then stopped as close to the entrance as possible.

As the guests jumped out soldierly in quick succession, it was almost hilarious to see their surprise as the cold wafts swiped them in their side, urging them to grab their equipment and march to the building at speed with necks drawn in. Their omni-tools flashed up briefly when reaching the revolving door. Kevin halted and typed a few extra buttons on the interface to get the side door open for the huger bags.

"What's in them?"

"Surprise" corporal Efrux said grudgingly, wiping the chilly sprinkles off his face.

"But seriously." he insisted, still smiling.

"Training drones and our weapons." Pretonus put in.

"Would you have bad dreams without them under your pillow?" he asked, but the turian tilted his head furrowing… "I mean, we could lock these away on this storey until you need them."

"Yes, that's fine." The turian concurred and instructed his comrades to move the crates into the storage room Ante just opened up for them, before heading to their quarters.

The group finally reached the fourth storey in two rounds, as only four of them fit in the elevator with their packs. When they all lined up on the corridor, the officers came forth to show them their apartments.

"So, these are your rooms, gentlemen from number 421 to 424. Your omni-tools have been set to open the allocated rooms, which are suited with basic bathing facilities; on the other hand the showers are located just before the end of the hallway."

"Are they shared?" A higher pitch voice called out from behind the tallest and burliest turian.

"We hope so." the corporal muttered smiling, as he turned back.

With an irresolute move, Ante looked down at his omni-tool, bringing up the accommodation documents, while Kevin was craning his head searching for the source of the enquiry. The turians stepped aside, leaving _that_ 'short and skinny' one standing in the middle, staring at the humans questioningly. Kevin blinked a few times starting to feel embarrassed as he scrutinized the features of the small turian's face. The realization came to him like a cold shower.

He slowly leaned closer to Ante, forgetting about his gaze still lingering over her, whispering "You knew _he_ was a _she_, right?"

"Erm... well," he hesitated to reply as his eyes were running wildly across the pages. "Yeah, there was a note put here..." He finally pointed at the relating paragraph then both of them looked up at her.

"Miss, erm," Kevin started clearing his throat with less confidence in a dubious attempt to save the situation, as Ante quickly looked up and muttered her name into his ear... "Gerumis!" Kevin pointed out with utter relief, just to notice a second later how strange his exclamation must have sounded. His impression was reinforced by five tilted heads gazing at him. "Yes, so... no! Your room is situated... " Ante pushed his own omni-tool screen under his nose; he shot his eyes down then up again "...on the storey above. Room 521 I'll see you to the door ma'am. It's with a bathroom en-suite.

"Look at that favouritism!" Taren hollered, grinning.

"The women's wing would be in a different section of the building, we guessed you'd rather stay closer together. On a 'ladies first' bases, we allocated our free en-suite room to the only woman in your team." Ante explained in the specialist's defence, but the turians were already resolute about ragging on her.

"Well, I shall return to my residency," she uttered in a cheeky tone, spinning around elegantly, to promenade to the elevator, succeeded by the theatrical grouches and griping of the males.

Kevin had already called the lift and held it until the turian got inside; he had to confess that he admired the feminine change in her motion as she was playing to the crowd. However his slowly dropping chin was more for the feat of her airy moves pulled off with the enormous kitbag across her shoulders. Kevin got inside, too and pressed the button to storey five. Facing the opening, she threw her head back bumptiously, grinning at the ops.

Kevin was standing by the control panel, still smiling at the intermezzo, when his eyes wandered up at the digital clock displaying the time 20:59.

"Oh shi…!" He snapped as he hastily hit the open button repeatedly, but the door had already closed and the elevator started to move without any reaction to his orders.

The dial changed to 21:00. Then there was no longer a dial to see; they were standing for a few seconds in the darkness like this.

"Why, my day would have not been complete without another power cut." she fetched a resigned sigh.

"Keep calm ma'am, I'm here."

"Ah, do I look nervous?" she asked a little more sullenly than how she intended.

Kevin was surprised at the waspy comment, just like Zaalia. She couldn't find a better answer for herself other than blaming the cold weather.

"You don't look _anything_." he came back with a defiant resolve.

A shrill screech cut them off from above, approaching in a menacing pace, it reached them with a loud metallic crank, and the elevator jerked below their feet.

"God!"

"Spirits!"

Kevin threw himself to the wall, reaching for the rail, while Zaalia instinctively assumed her fighting stance with slightly bent legs, from which she could react in the fastest way to any emergency. In the end this played out with Kevin grabbing on Zaalia's forearm, which almost earned him a reflexive arm twist if it wasn't for her quick assessment of the situation that eventually left her knocked out of balance. Under the human's weight, she floundered at him, her shoulder pushing against his; _it was supposed to be much softer by the looks_ – she thought grudgingly as she regained her composure, rubbing her numb plates over the joint she just hit.

"Whoa! Was that you?" he released her, snatching on the actual rails this time.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry…"

"…Who else would it be?!" she japed.

He saved the answer. Instead he looked around in the blank darkness.

"Heh, right; it's nothing, just the brakes. No worries." he laughed as he quickly released the handrail and yanked his collar wryly, straining his eyes to find where the turian was – wondering if she could sense somehow any of his not-so-graceful clinging to the bars – if grabbing her wasn't enough of a giveaway. But of course, he could not even see the tip of his own nose.

"So…You see in the dark?"

"What?... Me?"

"No, I mean… as in turians."

"Ooh... Oh, Yes."

"Oh?" He blinked a few times and set his eyes to the front, leastwise where he assumed "front" would be, trying to pull a straight face to chase his blush away. That wasn't the answer he expected.

"You look scared," the specialist added forwardly amiably.

"How many fingers am I showing?"

"Two."

"Wow, you do see me!"

"And that's only one of the things we can do," she said insinuatingly. "You'll see soon."

"You know, your species are considered… _were_ considered being scary," he corrected himself promptly; he felt he shouldn't have let his own sentiments influence his words about general statements, just realizing a second later that his words were not in line with his sentiments at all!

He was confined in a small lift with one of the less human-like creatures of the Citadel races, and he felt relaxed. _What?!_

"Parents used to threaten their children if they were no good, that the turians would come and abduct them." he continued. "Like, when I heard a clatter in the dark, I always imagined a turian was hiding under by bed," he confessed.

"Interesting fantasies you entertained, Lieutenant," she teased.

"I was a kid, please!"

The turian huffed; Kevin wasn't sure, but it sounded like a repressed snigger. Kevin continued his previous thought anyway:

"And after all that, look at us now. We are training together, working together, getting along…"

"…Stuck in an elevator…"

"Yah, these kinds of things," he shrugged.

They were standing like this for a while.

The lights suddenly lit up the little room. Faint beeps from behind the control panel signalled the rebooting was done, suggesting it was operational again. The elevator slightly resonated as the hoisting mechanism started to move and a moment later the doors slid aside with a ping.

"Run for it." Kevin said with little enthusiasm, as he stepped out, still wincing from the returned light.

The turian woman had already stormed out, not taking any chances.

"Thank the Spirits it didn't last too long!" She sighed as she turned around to face the 2ndLieutenant. "All right, thank you for seeing me to the door. It was exciting."

"Talking of which, _that's_ your door ma'am." Kevin pointed in the direction of her room.

"Thank you. Well, I hope you won't need to check the wardrobe for me."

"Not as long as you don't make noises… Though I think I'm not that concerned about turians lurking in the dark anymore," he uttered, gazing ahead.

"I guess I make a good therapist then?"

He fixed eyes with her.

"Actually… I showed four." he raised his hand with fingers extended but his pinkie bent.

The turian halted for a second and stared at him. Her mandibles lowered, partly exposing her teeth, and the plates on her face shifted almost subtly, just like the skin around her eyes… _She was smiling! Her eyes were smiling!_

Or, leastwise he hoped so.

"Good night, Lieutenant."

"Good night ma'am."

They parted; the turian entered her room as its door slid aside obediently, and Kevin strode to the elevator door, when suddenly recoiled, his eyes swinging between the staircase and the lift. He finally made up his mind and crossed the threshold; the doors closed... right before the _thud _of the main circuit breaker.

"Oh, come on!"

And _that's_ what he called bad luck.


End file.
